


Lying Beside You

by Alucinatio



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Headcanon, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, Nightmares, Spoilers, Stydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alucinatio/pseuds/Alucinatio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The horrors of Eichen House are over but for Lydia they're still threatening to haunt her. An unexpected friend decides to help share the burden. Maybe now she can rest easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 The room is lit in flickering fluorescent lights that reveal the ugly details of Lydia’s surroundings. She looks around at the walls covered in mold and the table next to her filled with bloody tools. In an attempt to get up, she discovers that she’s strapped tightly to the bed.

  
 Lydia struggles against her restraints and the leather bites her arms. The straps run across her chest and knees so that she can barely move. But, that doesn’t stop her from pushing with all of her strength to try and get the buckles loose.

  
 The sound of footsteps draw near and makes Lydia flail harder. She stops, defeated, when the door in front of her opens to let in an elegant man wearing clean clothes that contrast with the dingy environment. Dr. Gabriel Valack.

  
 “You…?” Lydia whispers, horrified. “But…but you’re dead! _You’re dead!_ I killed you!”

  
 Valack chuckles, shaking his head, “Oh, Lydia. Do you honestly believe that?”

  
 “…what?”

  
 “That must have been a nice dream you had,” Valack gently touches her chin, pushing it to the side. “The trepanation is taking its toll on you…”

  
 Lydia tries once again to break free from the straps as Valack turns to the metal tray beside her, “I’m sorry, Lydia. I would let you rest but…time is running short.”

  
 Her heart stops as Valack picks up the bloody drill from its resting place. He turns it on and the device sings a tune Lydia has become familiar with over the last few days. The sound makes her numb. Her desperation increases and she convulses on the bed, trying to wiggle out from the restraints.

  
 “Shh…” Valack tries to calm her with hands reaching out. “You want to help your friends, don’t you?”

  
 Her friends. She had to get to her friends. They were going to die. She could hear their screams ricocheting around her head. Malia. Kira. Scott. Stiles.

  
 Allison.

  
 Losing someone close to you was like having a wound that never heals. The pain is still there. When Allison died, it was like her heart collapsed. She didn’t want to feel that again. Not if she can help it.

  
 “Please…stop…” Lydia protests weakly as the drill nears. Valack ignores her and is instead focused on the spot on her head that is carefully shaved for this procedure.

  
 “You can make this nightmare end!” Valack assures her. “We just need to know who The Beast is. You can do that. Don’t you want to help?” 

 “No…not like this,” Lydia mutters. They wouldn’t want her to do this. Stiles would go ballistic. He’d be devastated.

  
 “Just stay still,” The drill is right next to her head now, the whirring almost deafening to her ears.

  
 “ _No_ ,” Lydia pulls away, but she can only move her head so far.

  
 “Lydia.” Valack warns, a frown on his face. He grabs her chin and forces her to look at the ceiling.

  
 Her heart hammers in her chest and it’s like she can’t breathe. Lydia pushes against the leather straps and tries to put distance between her head and the drill. Where were her friends? Was anyone coming to get her? Was she on her own?

  
 “Lydia.”

  
 “ _No. No!_ ”

  
 “ _Lydia!_ ” Valack was getting irritated now. His anger would cause him to be aggressive. The drill would be twice as painful.

  
 Her pack wasn’t coming. They dumped her here and they looked the other way. There were more important matters at hand. However, the dream she had lingers in her mind. The sound of Scott shouting commands. The feel of heat and fire. The strong scent of clean soap with a slight hint of gasoline.

  
 The dream gave her hope. Hope was what she needed.

  
 “ _Help me!_ ”

  
 Lydia screams.


	2. Chapter 2

 Clean soap with a hint of gasoline.

  
 Lydia’s surroundings are dark and she feels soft fabric against her face. She becomes aware of a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, protecting her from the world. Her head is nestled against a chest. Could it be her mother? No…that’s not right. Her mother smelled like lavender, an aromatherapy tactic to help her patients.

  
 When she calms down and allows her body to fall against the the person, Lydia realizes just how badly she was shaking before. Tranquil once again, the figure releases their hold and pulls back to allow her room. Even in the dark she recognizes the lanky shape of Stiles Stilinski.

  
 “Stiles…?” Lydia asks, tilting her head. “What…what are you doing here?”

  
 “I was making sure you were doing okay,” He explains. Stiles’ usual sarcastic tone is gone and he stares at her in concern. “You’re mom let me stay the night on the couch downstairs…”

  
 “That’s unnecessary. You don’t have to stay here.” Lydia rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “I’m fine.”

  
 Stiles raises his eyebrows, “Oh really? Because the cracked windows say otherwise.”

  
 Lydia turns to look at her bedroom window. There were lines spiderwebbing across the glass, but thankfully nothing shattered.

  
 “You were screaming…” Stiles explains in a quiet voice. “I heard it downstairs. Faint, but I came to check just in case…and…”

  
 “You covered me.” Lydia finishes. He muffled her mouth to prevent a disaster. He didn’t realize how dangerous her voice was. Lydia glares at him, “That was dangerous!”

  “It’s fine!”

  
 “It’s _not_ fine!” Lydia argues. “I could’ve killed you!” 

 “But you didn’t.”

  
 That wasn’t the point. He could be so damn stubborn sometimes. It was annoying. She already told him multiple times to leave for his safety when he broke into Eichen House. But of course, he didn’t listen. He never listens.

  
 There was no point in arguing with him so Lydia decides to change the subject, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  
 “I spend all my free time trying to save this stupid town and not get killed in the process,” Stiles laughs. “I don’t exactly have a normal social life anymore. So, I’m all yours.”  He notices she still looks doubtful and tense so he reassures her, “Besides, your mom probably feels bad for pushing me away and not listening to me when I came to visit you. So, she’s letting me make sure nothing bad happens again.”

  
 “Wait…you came to visit me?”

  
 Stiles frowns, “You don’t remember?”

  
 She has the vague recollection of a warm pressure on her hand and pleading whispers, but she assumed those were just hallucinations. Simply “Aiden” communicating with her. “No…not really.”

  
 Stiles looks a little disappointed and smiles bitterly as he plays with his thumbs, “Well, that’s not the first time I visited you and you didn’t remember…”

  
 “Is it really my fault? I was unconscious!” Lydia points out. “And I didn’t ask you to visit me!”

  
 “Nope! Because you were unconscious,” Stiles throws her words back at her with a smirk.

  
 Lydia smiles briefly before a curious thought occurs to her, “Why did you visit me?”

  
 “Why do you think?”

  
 Lydia frowns at him in annoyance, “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

  
 “It should be obvious,” Stiles shrugs. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  
 Lydia narrows her eyes at him, doubtful. There was no benefit in him sitting net to an unresponsive vegetable. She never responded. She didn’t react to him. She even doesn’t remember. So why would he bother?

  
 “You were having a nightmare, huh?” Stiles asks. “I’m familiar with those…”

  
 “Yeah…I was…” Lydia admits.

  
 “What was it about?”

  
 Lydia tenses up again when she recalls her dream. She takes a deep breath to regain her composure and tries to speak in a steady voice to hide her fear, “I…I was in Eichen House again. Valack was there…he had a drill…”

  
 Stiles doesn’t say anything. Instead, he nods and the silent understanding is enough. Nothing needs to be said. Stiles doesn’t observe her with pity or shock. He shares her burden. He knows what it’s like to be trapped with your fears.

  
 “This…this is real right?” Lydia hesitantly asks. Her heart beats rapidly in anticipation of the answer. She stares at Stiles with wide, fearful eyes. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. So she had to make sure.

  
 Stiles is taken aback by her question. He takes her shaking hand in his to try and calm her down. The contact helps convince her of reality, “Yeah…yeah this is real. It’s over, okay?”

  
 Lydia bites her lip and nods, unable to stop the tears of relief from dripping down her face. Stiles hugs her again and Lydia lets herself be held. Stiles rests his chin on top of her head and whispers, “He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s gone.”

  
 When they pull away, Lydia quickly wipes away her tears. She’s embarrassed at the vulnerable moment and immediately lifts her chin to reclaim some confidence. There was the Lydia Martin that Stiles was familiar with. He smiles in amusement at the gesture.

  
 “You should probably go back to sleep,” he suggests.

  
 “Yeah…that’s a good idea,” Lydia agrees even though she’s scared of what waits for her when she closes her eyes.

  
 She buries herself under the sheets, pulling them up to her chin. Stiles goes to turn off her bedside lamp and they smile at each other goodnight. She expects him to turn around and leave the room, so she’s surprised when he takes off his sweater and places it on the floor in a ball. Stiles goes to lie down with his sweater, putting an arm under his head to cushion it more.

  
 “Um…what are you doing?” Lydia asks.

  
 Stiles looks up at her with an innocent look, “Sleeping.”

  
 “There?” 

 He turns to look at his makeshift pillow before returning to look at her, “…Yeah!” 

 “No.”

  
 “Why not?” Stiles asks as if she’s the crazy one in this situation.

   
 Lydia lifts herself up with her elbow and raises her eyebrows at him condescendingly, “Because the cold, hard floor isn’t comfortable.”

  
 “Well, I happen to find it soothing!” Stiles replies, crossing his arms and lifting his chin.

  
 “You don’t even have a pillow,” Lydia narrows her eyes at him.

  
 “I have a sweater!”

  
 “Blanket?”

  
 Stiles shakes his head, “Don’t need one. It’s pretty hot in here.”

  “…it’s 40 degrees.”

  
 He opens his mouth as if to reply and closes it again. After a minute he responds, “That’s…hot…to me.”

  
 “Get out of my room, Stiles.”

  
 “No! I’m staying right here!” He announces, plopping back onto his “pillow”.

  
 “Why?” Lydia asks, exasperated.

  
 “So you’re not alone.”

  
 The statement makes Lydia pause and the room is quiet with the weight of his words. Though the phrase is touching, Lydia still feels bad for making him sleep on the floor. He shouldn’t have to go to those lengths. The least she can do is make him rest on something softer than the wooden ground.

  
 “I don’t need a bodyguard in my room. I’ll be fine!”

  
 “But-“

  
 “ _Stiles!_ ”

  
 “Okay, okay!” He scrambles up, grabbing his sweater off the floor. “I get it, I’m leaving.”

  
 He heads for the door, pausing to look over his shoulder at her, “Good night, Lydia.”

  
 “Night, Stiles…”

  
 Stiles softly shuts the door and Lydia listens to his footsteps fade away. A few minutes pass and she’s frustrated to realize that she is now completely awake.


	3. Chapter 3

 Lydia tosses and turns in her bed in an attempt to find a comfortable position to drift off to sleep. Unfortunately, her efforts end in vain. She finally lies still on her back, eyes looking up at the ceiling. It was so quiet, she could hear her own heart beating wildly in the dark.

  
 She couldn’t sleep.

  
 It’s not that she couldn’t sleep. She probably could and her eyes were drooping. It was that she didn’t want to.

  
 Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Valack looking at her expectantly. As she felt herself begin to drift off to sleep, the sound of a drill would jerk her awake. Eventually, she decided to stop trying and just stare at the shadows.

  
 But staring at the shadows was boring. And listening to the occasional car zoom past her house got tiring after a while as well. Lydia was bored. Incredibly, undeniably bored.

  
 She couldn’t read a book, the words would make her sleepy. The bright screen of her phone would make her eyes tired, also. Lydia sits up, looking around the room for some kind of distraction.

  
 At that moment, her stomach rumbles. Lydia jumps at the loud noise. That’s right…she hasn’t eaten a proper meal since she was comatose in Eichen House. And she was too exhausted tonight to eat dinner after what happened.

  
 Lydia pushes away the bed sheets and stands up, her objective decided. She’d quietly head downstairs and prepare herself a meal to pass the time. Her mom is probably sound asleep and Stiles was long gone. It’d be nice to have a space to herself.

  
 She exits and begins to walk down the large staircase, contemplating what she should make. Something sweet or salty? She could binge just this once, it’s been a long week… She deserves a little cake. Now, the question was what kind…?

  
 Wrapped in her thoughts, Lydia walks right through the living room without noticing that the TV is on. She hums to herself as she sets up the ingredients, trying her best not to bang the metal bowls on the table. Lydia is about to begin measuring flour when a burst of laughter erupts from the next room.

  
 She freezes.

  
 It had to be her imagination. She still hadn’t completely recovered from her experience. She was still hearing drills from nowhere for God’s sake. With the comfort of these thoughts, Lydia continues to pour flour into a measuring cup.

  
 A soft chuckle emits from the living room. Faint, but she could still hear it.

  
 Lydia puts down the flour and quickly grabs a knife from the kitchen counter. She falls into a fighting stance, remembering everything she learned from Parrish about self-defense. She knew it. She knew Valack wasn’t really dead. He’s come for her now.

  
 Well she wasn’t letting him take her without a fight.

  
 Lydia slowly exits the kitchen and heads into the living with her back to the wall and her knife pointed forward. The giant television floods the room in cartoon colors and the volume is turned down so low, you have to strain to hear it. Somebody is lounging on the couch, long legs taking up all the space. For whatever reason, Valack made himself comfortable.

  
 She takes a deep breath and lifts her arms up to plunge the knife deep into her kidnapper’s body.

  
 As the knife gets nearer, the dark head turns around and Lydia gasps as she recognizes Stiles. The knife is falling so fast, all her weight put into its descent, and Lydia can’t stop.

  
 “Lydia! _Lydia!_ ” Stiles screams, flailing around like a fish. His move saved his life, as his panicking limbs pushed him off the sofa and onto the floor. The knife grazes his hand as it buries itself into the pillow where his head was lying lazily.

  
 Lydia steps back, hitting her back against the wall with a hand over her mouth in shock. Stiles is on the floor, groaning both at the impact on the floor and the stinging pain on the side of his right hand. He clutches it to his chest, rolling back and forth across the floor as if movement can lessen the pain.

  
“Lydia, what the _hell?!_ ” Stiles hisses between clenched teeth.

  
 There are footsteps upstairs, probably Lydia’s mom. The two stay completely silent, Stiles trying his very best to swallow his pain and screaming to himself with no sound.

  
 When the footsteps disappear, Lydia lets her hands fall and points a shaking finger at Stiles as she whisper yells, “What do you mean what the hell me?! What the hell _you?!_ _You_ told me you were leaving!”

  
 “The room, Lydia!” Stiles argues at the same passionate yet quiet volume, “I was leaving _the room!_ ”

  
 “Well a little specificity would have been nice!” Lydia scolds him. “I thought you were a goddamn intruder, dammit!”

  
 “Sorry! Next time I’ll let you know, _so I make sure you don’t murder me!_ ” Stiles voice comes out as a squeak of anger.

  
 Lydia sighs and rushes to his spot on the floor, grabbing his hand to look at it. Stiles is still wincing at the pain and Lydia examines the wound before throwing his hand back at him.

  
 “Ow!” Stiles says, clutching his hand protectively.

  
 “Don’t be such a crybaby, that’s barely anything!”

  
 “You just sliced me with a knife, Lydia, sorry I’m not being such a trooper!”

  
 “I’m sorry, okay?!” She gets up off the floor and helps Stiles up as well, checking to see that nothing else is broken or bruised. She leads him to the couch and helps him sit down, “Stay here.”

  
 Lydia hurries upstairs to the closet where her mom keeps the first aid kit. When she returns, Lydia gently holds Stiles’ hand in hers with an alcohol prep pad ready. Stiles tries to pull away, but her grip is too strong.

  
 “Hold still!” She orders.

  
 “No, that’ll hurt! No thank you! _Not_ doing that!” Stiles protests.

  
 “I have to clean it!”

  
 “I don’t know, that looked like a pretty clean knife to me!”

  
 “ _Stiles!_ ”

  
 “ _Lydia!_ ”

  
 Lydia stops arguing with him and just stares him down. Stiles matches her gaze, but breaks after a minute, “Okay, fine! Do your worst!”

  
 “It doesn’t even hurt that much. Suck it up,” Lydia says as she carefully presses the alcohol pad onto the cut. Stiles sucks in a breath, but manages to smile when she looks up at him.

  
 Next, Lydia takes out a band-aid and places it over the wound. Stiles glares at her hands when she presses the bandage, “Is that really necessary?”

  
 “I’m making sure it doesn’t fall off!”

  
 “If it falls off, just get a new one!”

  
 “That’s a waste, Stiles!”

  
 Once the first aid materials are put away, Lydia goes back to the kitchen to bake her cake. She pours the flour into a metal bowl and gets ready to prepare the sugar. At the corner of her eye, she sees Stiles appear in the doorway.

  
 “What are you doing?” he asks, leaning against the wall.

  
 “Baking a cake… What are you doing?”

  
 “Baking a cake,” he replies, leaning down to look at the recipe displayed on her phone.

  
 She presses a finger against his forehead and pushes him away from her phone, “ _Beep!_ Wrong answer! You’re going home.”

  
 “Why are you trying so hard to push me away?” Stiles asks, crossing his arms.

  
 Lydia sighs, “Stiles, you need to sleep. You’ve had an extremely crazy day.”

  
 Stiles is examining the measuring cups and looking back at the recipe. At her words, he looks up and narrows his eyes at her, “Okay. You have too! Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  
 “Because…” Lydia trails off when she realizes she doesn’t have an answer. She didn’t want to admit she was scared of her nightmares. That was such a childish fear, she was better than that. “I’m busy.”

  
 “You’re busy? Baking a cake…at one in the morning?”

  
 “…yes.”

  
 Stiles shrugs, “Okay, I won’t pry even though clearly something is wrong. And I’m not leaving either.” 

 “ _Why?!_ ” Lydia asks, exasperated.

  
 “Because something’s wrong!” Stiles exclaims. “No way am I leaving now!”

  
 “ _Stiles!_ ”

  
 “Okay how about this?” Stiles points a whisk at her, “I’ll stay until you go to bed.”

  
 “That sounds like something a pervert would say to a drunk party girl,” Lydia comments in monotone.

  
 Stiles sucks his teeth and pulls his hand back, “Yeah that…that did not come out the right way.”

  
 “Why the hell would you stay up with me?”

  “Because I can tell something is keeping you awake.” Stiles turns serious and stares into her eyes, searching for her answer, “Do you really want to be alone with those thoughts?”

  
 Lydia struggles to find words to combat Stiles’ question. With no rebuttal coming to mind, she holds her hand out, “Fine. You can stay until I go to bed.”

  
 Stiles takes her hand in his and shakes with a firm grip, “Alright! Let’s bake a cake!”


End file.
